When the Pawn
by envinyata
Summary: A not-so-chance meeting with Draco Malfoy brings more questions than answers for Auror Morag MacDougal, placing her at the center of a deadly game.


Full summary: It's been four years since they graduated Hogwarts together, and they were never friends to begin with; even less so since his involvement is suspected in her brother Simon's death. But a not-so-chance meeting with Draco Malfoy brings more questions than answers for Auror Morag MacDougal. When she hears rumors that Simon is in fact alive, she can't help risking everything to save him - placing herself at the center of a deadly game. A response to the Unexplored Characters challenge at HPFF by padfoot's girl.

_When the pawn hits the conflicts, he thinks like a king  
What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight  
And he'll win the whole thing fore he enters the ring  
There's nobody to battle when your mind is your might  
And when you go solo, you hold your own hand  
And remember that depth is the greatest of heights  
If you know where you stand, then you'll know where to land  
And if you fall, it won't matter, cause you'll know that you're right._  
- Fiona Apple, "When the Pawn"

* * *

The apartment was dark and quiet, but Morag knew before she opened the door that something was wrong. With a silent curse, she reached up her sleeve, withdrawing her knife, and gripped her dueling wand more tightly in her other hand. She wasn't sure she wanted to go up against anyone who could make it through her own wards, but she didn't have a whole lot of other options at the moment.

She stepped softly into the darkened room, fighting the urge to cast a silencing spell as she walked. She couldn't risk betraying herself; if there was anyone still in her flat, they would know the moment she used magic. It looked like they'd made short work of her belongings, however. The living room was ransacked, from what little she could tell. She made her way slowly along the wall, peeking behind the curtains, before turning to go in the direction of the bedroom.

It was then that she saw him. Casting a brief, muttered _Expelliarmus_, he was thrown against the opposite wall. She whispered _Lumos_ next and couldn't help the gasp leaving her lips. "Draco!" She did not, however, lower the weapons she had trained on him.

He looked up from his prone position with a slight grimace. "Morag," he said evenly as he picked himself up off her floor. "It's been quite some time." And it had; four years since they graduated from Hogwarts together. "Do you always welcome your visitors so kindly?"

She saw that the Moroccan sun had not left him untouched; his usually pale features were darkened with a tan, but his blonde hair, now longish, had been pulled back with a cord. "Only the ones I've invited. You might want to start talking. I'd be well within my rights at the moment to drop you."

He gave her his patented grin as he gestured to the room. "This isn't my handiwork, Morag. I'm trained to leave no trace."

She laughed softly. "There aren't many who could break through my wards, or who know enough about them to try. You can explain later why you had to destroy my flat in the process." She directed him to the couch, keeping her wand trained on him as she moved to stand in front of him.

"I expect the bloke I saw crossing the street as I was on my way in might be capable." Propping his feet on her coffee table, Draco leaned back against the cushions, his arms resting on either side of him. The man looked about as threatened as a ruler holding court. It infuriated her.

"Did he just happen to mention in passing that he ransacked my flat?" Morag demanded, flipping her long braid back from her face. Her blue eyes were still locked with his.

Draco shook his head slowly. "No. I'd seen him before."

"Really." It was not a question. "Where?"

"At the ball where the Moroccan Assistant Minister was assassinated." Draco still held her gaze, implacable.

She settled heavily into the chair opposite him, her wand still raised. "And why would he be paying me a visit?" she said without much curiosity.

"That I cannot tell you." Draco leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands.

She tilted her head in assent. "Figures. Then what brings you by? Surely it wasn't mere serendipity that you happened to meet him in passing."

"I'm here about your brother."

She tucked her dagger away finally. "Simon's dead."

"Hmm," Draco said, a soft hint of amusement underlying his words. "How many screaming matches with your boss did it take to get confirmation of that?"

"Your kind don't _give_ confirmation, Draco." Her lips twisted wryly. "David took a look into the file for me."

"Yes, rumor has it Simon took a nasty fall from a tall building in downtown Fez. A freak accident, as they say; not too common in his line of work." He held out his hand. "May I have my wand back?"

"Keep talking." She didn't move.

He sighed heavily, looking older than his 22 years. "You know I've been in country for some time now." She gave a tight nod. "I heard about Simon's death and I got curious. Especially when a few of his contacts turned up missing as well. And then their bodies began appearing here and there, after they'd been tortured and killed. Those were not freak accidents."

"That's lovely," she said, lowering her wand and tossing him his own. "I'm sure that you'll get around to what it has to do with me before we're old and gray." She unclipped her brassy red hair and raked her fingers through it, then leaned back in the chair, pulling her legs up to her chest. Her eyes still followed his every move.

"There's a pattern, Morag. He's going after everyone who might know anything about Simon's last mission. The fact that he came here only proves it to me."

She was surprised that she actually saw concern in Draco's eyes. "Who_ is _he?" she asked finally.

"A killer for hire. His name, or one of them, is Augustus Rook. I've done some digging about your brother's last mission; I believe one of his objectives was to take out Rook."

Her eyebrow rose. "Really."

"Well, that or do business with him. I'm still guessing. It was probably a double-cross."

He leaned back against the sofa again as she stood, making her way over to the window, where she gazed out over the city as if its darkened streets held the answers to this madness. "I don't understand why he would be after me. Simon never spoke about his work. Hell, I thought he was vacationing in northern Italy until I could no longer reach him by post."

She could feel Draco's icy blue gaze boring into the back of her skull. "The problem is, Rook doesn't know that."

She turned. "Well, someone ought to inform him that whatever secrets Simon had went with him to his grave."

Their eyes locked again, and she looked away first, cursing her own lack of nerve. She was a well-trained Auror; a dog robber like Draco Malfoy shouldn't scare her. But, oh, he did.

"That's the problem, Morag. It's not the secrets he's after. He wants Simon."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Simon's dead, remember?"

"I don't think he is," Draco responded, his voice now grave.

She felt hot tears rising up in her throat. "Based on what? I deal in facts, Draco! I'm tired of these games. I had enough of them when he was alive."

He shrugged helplessly. "The cover story is thin," he said. "I can't find anyone who's actually seen his body. It doesn't _feel_ right, Morag. And Rook's actions only prove it to me." His voice betrayed his conviction. Whatever Draco was telling her was what he believed to be true. Instinctively she wanted to trust him.

She wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the wall. Her stomach was in knots. "If he is alive, why wouldn't he come to me?" she asked finally, blinking back the tears.

"That's just it," Draco responded. She opened her eyes again to find his searching her face. "If Rook wanted you dead, you would be dead. You're still standing here. If he wanted to find something in your apartment, he would have found it. I think you'll discover that nothing is missing." The man scrubbed a hand over his face in a rare show of dispossession. "You're the pawn, my dear. Rook believes Simon will come to you, eventually, or you'll find Simon. And I expect he plans to be there when you do."


End file.
